Clubbing Baby Seals - Part I

Some of my income comes from a 501c3 environmental protection organization. Before you ask, no, I don't clean otters and penguins and seashells after oil spills, nor do I chain myself to dead trees. My efforts to preserve biological diversity are of a far less idealistic, far more left brain nature.

So recently at the organization's Maine office, I'm hanging out in my office looking swamped and focused, if only by virtue of the piles of papers and binders and post-it notes that cover my desk. I'm busy typing a personal email and listening to fabulous tunes all headphones-like when a tidal wave of high pitched yelps and elephant-walk floor shaking crashes over the shores of my tranquility:

"Look! It's a seal! Oh my god! Look at it! There, on the ice, in the river!!! Oh my gawd!!! A seal! Look! Wow! It's a seal in the river!"

"Have you seen the seal yet? Have you seen it?? The seal! There's a seal in the river!"

No, I haven't seen it and I don't really care to see it and you sound like the Chicken Lady from the Kids in the Hall, but if going to look at the fucking seal is what it takes to appease your five year old fascination with "wildlife" slash shut you up so I can get back to my emailing and music listening, then fine. Let's go. And I did. I looked at the stupid boring seal and then with characteristic deadpan delivery (rife with British sarcasm), responded with something like "whoopee" or "fascinating." Either that, or I looked and left without uttering a word.

I looked at the animal and it was as vapid, lackluster an experience as you might imagine. But I looked and thus thought myself free from further seal harassment shrieking. But no. No. Minutes later, I hear the same nightmarish shrieking and earthquake waddling make its way throughout the office. And then it gets closer and closer until she's running past me AGAIN screaming "Have you seen the seal? In the river? The seal?!"